A Sense of Immortality
by dawn341
Summary: A Sentinel/Highlander crossover - Blair asks Richie for a favor. Originally published in Sentry Post 2. Sequel to In The Line Of Fire.


A Sense Of Immortality by Dawn Cunningham

Disclaimers:

Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, and Simon Banks belong to Pet Fly Productions. Richie Ryan and Duncan MacLeod belong to Rysher - so does the real old guy who gets mentioned but never shows up in the story. I'm just borrowing them and not getting paid for it. Most other characters are my own.

Do not post or publish this story anywhere else, without my express permission. Feel free to share it with others as long as the disclaimers remain intact.

This story was originally published in Sentry Post 2.

I wrote this story many years ago.

* SENT * SENT *

Jim Ellison glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. Blair was late. It wasn't that he was worried - well, okay, maybe a little - but he really wanted some answers. The phone message he had played back an hour ago had him fidgeting with curiosity. He glanced over at the answering machine, checking to make sure the message light was still on - that he hadn't imagined the whole thing. Unable to settle in one place, the Sentinel grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went out on the patio.

Opening his senses carefully, he listened for his roommate's car. Proud of the way he managed to filter out the surrounding noise, he pushed a little further and was rewarded with the sound of the Volvo coming. Grinning in anticipation, Jim drained the beer before going inside to wait for his Guide to come through the door. Then he would get some answers - even if it meant tying Blair down and tickling him till he screamed for mercy.

He tracked the younger man as he entered the building, listened to the sounds of the elevator grinding up to their floor, then the bouncing footsteps that approached the door. Grabbing a book from the coffee table, he tried to appear engrossed in the story.

"Hey, Jim," Blair said as he burst through the door. Keys went flying towards the basket in one direction and the backpack went sailing in the other direction, coming to rest under the coat rack as if a magnet had drawn it there. "What's for dinner? I'm starving."

"I thought we would do carry-out," Jim said, striving to remain nonchalant when all he wanted to do was grab the other man and shake some information out of him.

"Why is it, Jim, that when it's your turn to cook, we do carry-out, and when it's my turn to cook, you want a seven course meal?" Blair asked with a disgusted look on his face.

Jim shrugged his shoulders. They both knew the answer - there wasn't any reason to say it out loud. "You have a message on the machine," he said. "I saved it for you."

"Great!" Blair went to the machine and hit the rewind button. "Maybe it's Jill calling back about our date," he said as he pushed the play key.

"Hi, Blair," a female voice started, "it's your wife - remember me? I'm staying at the Hilton - room 402. Give me a call. I'd like to see you. Bye."

"Oh, wow! Denise is in town," Blair said as he retrieved the phone book. "I haven't seen her in ages. Hospitals... hot air balloons... hot tubs and spas... here it is... hotels." He ran his finger down the list before picking up the phone and dialing the number. "Room 402, please." While he waited to be connected, he turned and grinned at Jim. "I can't wait for the two of you to meet. You're going to love her."

Jim stared at his Guide in amazement. Blair didn't even seem upset that his secret had gotten out. When the phone was picked up on the other end, he had to fight to keep from listening in.

"Hey, Denise, it's Blair. What are you doing in town?... Sure, I can come over tonight or better yet, why don't you come over here for dinner?" His face took on a disappointed look at the response. "No problem. How about an hour?... Great! Say, I'd like you to meet Jim... Oh, okay, maybe later... Okay, see you then." Blair hung up the phone.

"So?" Jim hinted for more information.

"I'm going over to see her in about an hour. We're going to have dinner there. She does want to meet you, but she wanted tonight to just be the two of us. Sorry, Jim."

"That's okay, Chief. So, you've been keeping secrets from me, haven't you?"

Blair turned puzzled eyes on his friend. "What do you mean?"

"She said she was your wife, Sandburg. Somehow, I don't remember that ever being mentioned before." He watched in amazement as his roommate actually blushed.

"Well, it was a very short marriage. Kind of a matter of necessity." Blair took a few steps in the direction of his room.

Jim decided that this was getting very interesting. "How long was this marriage?"

"Um... about three months." He moved a little closer to his bedroom.

"Three months? And then you got a divorce?"

"Not exactly..."

"Then you're still married?" This was like trying to get information from a suspect.

"Noooo... We got..." Blair mumbled something and almost dove into his room.

"Sandburg, get back out here!" Jim yelled. "I want some answers."

Blair slowly crept out of his room, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but where he was. "I have to get ready to go, Jim."

"Then stop stalling. You can't go around dropping bombshells like this without expecting repercussions. You said you got married because it was necessary. The only reason I can come up with is that she was pregnant. I hope you're not going to tell me that there's a little Sandburg running around somewhere that you've never told me about either."

Blair laughed. "No way, Jim. That's not what I meant. Denise and I were in college together, studying anthropology. There was this guy who offered to finance a three-month field trip to Borneo to study the Dayak people. He wanted their culture documented before it was totally lost. Both Denise and I wanted to go, but, for some reason, this guy wanted only married couples to go."

"But that's discrimination," Jim said with a frown.

"I know, Jim. We could have taken him to court, but by that time, the trip would have been over. It was just too good an opportunity to turn down. So, Denise and I got married. End of story. Now, can I go get ready to meet her?"

"One more little detail, Chief. Did you get a divorce, or are you still married?"

"Ummm. Neither, man. Gotta go."

Jim blocked the way into Blair's bedroom. "Okay, if you didn't get a divorce and you're not still married - what does that leave?"

Blair gave a long sigh. "Okay, but this is just between me and you. We got an annulment. Happy now?"

"Are you telling me that you were married to someone for three months, and you never went to bed together?" Jim looked at his friend in amazement.

"We went to bed together all the time," Blair insisted, turning pink again. "We just didn't..." He made a pumping motion with his hand.

"So the great Romeo struck out," Jim said, trying to keep from laughing. "Or was she so bad-looking that you didn't even try?"

"She was beautiful, but we were friends, man. When we decided to get married, we agreed that there wouldn't be any... hanky-panky. It was strictly a professional relationship, and we've maintained our friendship because of it. But, let me tell you, Jim, that was the longest three months of my life!" Blair shook his head in disgust.

"I can believe that, Chief," Jim teased.

"So, is the interrogation over? I have to get ready."

"Sure, Chief. I'd hate for you to keep your wife waiting." He snickered as he went back to the couch.

Fifteen minutes later, Blair emerged from his room. "See you later, man. Oh, and don't wait up for me."

Jim shook his head. "Three months of marriage with no results and he thinks he's going to get lucky tonight."

"I heard that," Blair called back from the door.

* SENT * SENT *

Blair knocked on the door of room 402 and anxiously waited for Denise to answer. On the drive over, he had tried to figure out just how long it had been since he had last seen her. He'd finally decided that it had been over two years ago - just before he had met Jim. Of course, they had been in contact using email. She knew all about his work with the police department and how he'd moved in with Jim after the warehouse had blown up. The one thing he had kept from her was that Jim was a Sentinel and the subject of his dissertation.

She did know about his dissertation and what it was about. Several times, she had told him about things she had found out while researching her own dissertation. Denise had refused to tell him what hers was about, claiming that she didn't want to jinx her research. No amount of cajoling on his part could get her to open up, but he had every intention of prying the secret out of her tonight. He heard the door unlock and turned to face it.

"Hey, Denise," he greeted his friend, leaning over to kiss her cheek briefly. "It's been a long time."

"Blair! Please, come in. It's so good to see you again." She reached out and hugged him. "I can't believe it's been two years. You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you." Blair studied the young woman in front of him. He knew that she was thirty, but you couldn't tell by looking at her. Denise worked out regularly - especially at martial arts - claiming a single girl needed to be able to protect herself. Her well-toned body was clad in a cream colored blouse and a blue mini-skirt that showed off her long legs. In her bare feet she stood at 5'10" and she had teased him whenever she wore high heels, calling him Midget. Short brown hair framed a face that wasn't exactly beautiful, but the animation that usually filled her face made it worth a second look. "How are you?"

Denise looked away. "I've been keeping busy," she said, avoiding the question. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the couch. "I want you to tell me everything. What's it like living and working with a cop? I still can't believe you're doing that."

"It's really different, but Jim's a great guy." Blair looked around the room, for the first time realizing that he was in a suite. He whistled softly. "Pretty fancy digs, Denise. Who did you rob?"

Denise laughed. "You even sound like a cop. I didn't rob anyone - I just decided to splurge a little bit. I received a small inheritance from my last set of foster parents - you remember them, don't you? Jack and Mary Bishop?" When Blair nodded, she continued. "I was with them for three years and they helped put me through school. They died in a car accident two years ago and left me everything. They didn't have any other relatives."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know they had died. Why didn't you tell me? I would have come to the funeral." Blair reached out and squeezed her hand sympathetically.

"I know you would have, but I was down in Ecuador at the time and didn't find out about it until it was too late. I still miss them." Tears glistened in her eyes. A knock came at the door and she jumped to her feet to answer it. "I took the liberty of ordering room service. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," Blair insisted. He moved over to the table and held a chair for her to sit in. All through dinner, they laughed and joked about old times, but every so often he thought he saw a shadow cross her face. When dinner was over, they moved back to the couch, each carrying a glass of wine.

"I guess it's confession time," Denise started out. She set her wine glass down and went into the bedroom, reappearing moments later carrying five books. She handed them to Blair. "These are the journals of a Professor Milo Stanton. He was studying a tribe of Indians in Ecuador in the 1920's. He describes in great detail a member of the tribe that fits your definition of a Sentinel."

"Really? Wow!" Blair started looking through the journals excitedly. If that were true, he could publish his dissertation without using Jim's name. He'd told the Sentinel that he had enough material for ten dissertations - and that was true - but the reason he had given for not doing it had been a lie. He did worry whether his observer role in the police department would be revoked when his research was done, but, more importantly, he worried that someone like Brackett would take advantage of Jim if the knowledge ever got out. "Where did you find these?"

Denise flushed lightly. "I met the man's grandson while I was doing research." She paused and looked down at her feet. "Almost two years ago."

"What! You've had these for two years and you didn't tell me? Why?" Blair couldn't believe that she had kept such important research from him. "This is *so* unbelievable. How could you keep this information from me when you *knew* I was doing my dissertation on Sentinels!"

"I'm sorry, Blair." Denise's eyes filled with tears. "I know what I did was wrong. I... I just hope you'll be able to forgive me."

"I want to, Denise, but, right now, I can't decide how I feel. Why don't you tell me why you kept this from me?" Blair tried to calm down. They were friends - surely she had a good reason for doing this.

Denise sighed. "These journals disprove my thesis. I kept hoping to find something that would prove they were wrong. I kept reviewing everything I had found, but I always ended up with the same conclusion. I'd based my doctorate on something that wasn't true." She shook her head. "I should have listened to my advisors, but I was *so* sure that I was on to something."

"You never did tell me what your dissertation was about," Blair pointed out. "If you tell me what you've found so far, maybe I can see something that you missed." He reached for his wine glass and took a sip.

"I was trying to prove that there is a race of people called Immortals who never die," Denise said bluntly.

Blair almost choked on his wine, coughing and hacking as it went down the wrong way. Denise patted him on the back as he tried to breath again. "*What?*" he asked when he could finally speak.

"I know. I know. It sounds really bizarre, but look at how many tales there are about people who come back to life. I was doing some other research - tracking people who came to the new world and trying to document where they came from and why they did it. One of the names was Felipe Mendez. I tracked him from Ecuador back to Spain - and let me tell you it wasn't easy. If the records are correct, he had to be 100 years old by the time of these journals, but Stanton described him as a man in the prime of life. The journals cover ten years and several times Professor Stanton mentions how Felipe never seemed to age."

"So what happened that proved you wrong?" Blair asked cautiously.

"It's in the last journal. Stanton talks about Felipe being killed - even going into great detail about the burial ceremony. There must have been two different men called Felipe Mendez, but I missed it somehow."

"You didn't base your entire dissertation on one person, Denise, did you?"

"I did have several other names, but I dropped the research on them when Mendez seemed like everything that I needed. The other promising one was a guy named Duncan MacLeod - I tracked him back a few years, but lost the trail. Although I *did* find an old legend in Scotland about a Duncan MacLeod who came back from the dead to avenge his father's death. I just haven't done the research needed to tie the two names together."

Blair almost moaned - this was getting worse every minute. Stalling for time, he went to the table and poured himself some more wine - wishing that it was something stronger.

After harassing Denise about keeping back information he needed for his dissertation, he now found himself in that role. He knew Immortals existed. A few months ago, one by the name of Richie Ryan had saved his life by taking six bullets in his place. In the search for reasons why Richie had died for a stranger, he had met Duncan MacLeod. Later, Richie had confirmed that MacLeod was an Immortal, too. But he had made a promise to the young man who had saved his life - that he would never tell anyone else about Immortals.

"So, why don't you go research this Duncan MacLeod? Just because one lead didn't pan out, doesn't mean another won't," Blair said, silently promising to call Richie and warn him.

"I wish it were that easy," Denise said. "I... I..." She put her head in her hands and burst into tears.

Blair rushed to her side. "Denise... please don't cry. Oh, man, what do I do now?" When her crying didn't stop, he took her into his arms and rocked her gently, not knowing what else to do.

After ten long minutes, Denise's sobs finally started to ease off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this," she mumbled.

"That's okay, Denise." Blair tried to reassure her. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?" She shook her head. "C'mon, you can tell me. It can't be all that bad."

Denise's red-rimmed eyes turned toward him. "I... I have a brain tumor and I'm dying," she said before starting to sob again.

"Okay, so I was wrong - it is bad. I'm so sorry, Denise. Isn't there anything they can do? Surgery? Radiation treatments?"

She shook her head and made an obvious attempt to pull herself back together. "The doctors all agree that it's inoperable and life-threatening. They tell me I only have a few more months to live - if I'm lucky."

Blair looked at his friend in disbelief. She looked so healthy. "Oh, man. I don't believe this. How long have you known? Why didn't you let me know?"

"It's not exactly something I wanted to tell you in an email. I feel like I've spent the last year in the hospital having tests run."

"I don't know what to say, Denise."

She smiled tremulously. "Blair Sandburg doesn't know what to say - that's one for the record books. You don't have to say anything - just you being here helps. I've accepted my fate, Blair - that's the main reason I'm here. I'm trying to tie up loose ends wherever possible. I know I'll never finish my dissertation, but, this way, I know you can finish yours. I just wish I hadn't spent so much of my adult life tracking down something that didn't exist. People who live forever - yeah, right." She shook her head in disgust.

Another surge of guilt flooded Blair. Even if he told her that Immortals did exist, he doubted that she would believe him. Denise would probably think he was trying to make her feel better. "Just because this Mendez guy died, it doesn't mean that Immortals don't exist."

"I've given up believing in myths and legends," she said in a dispirited tone. "Listen, Blair, I'm not really feeling very good right now. Can we continue our reunion tomorrow?"

"Sure. Are you going to be okay? I mean... I could stay and keep you company if you don't want to be alone."

"No, I'm all right - it's just all this crying. I'll probably just go to bed and I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning. Maybe we could do lunch - you can invite Jim to come along. I want to meet this guy who's trying to keep you in line."

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow morning with a time and place. Take care of yourself, Denise." Blair dropped a light kiss on her cheek before leaving.

* SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT

Jim looked up in surprise when he heard a key in the lock. A moment later, Blair came through the door. "You're home early," he commented. "Is something wrong?" he asked when he saw the downcast look on his roommate's face.

"Major, big-time, wrong," Blair complained as he collapsed on the couch, after setting the journals he was carrying on the coffee table. "I do *not* want to ever have to go through another night like tonight!"

"What happened? Did she turn you down? Slap your face?" Jim teased.

"I'm serious, man! First, I find out she's been withholding information about another Sentinel from me - documented by a doctor of anthropology, no less. Then she tells me she was doing her dissertation on Immortals, but she's given up and doesn't believe they really exist. You and I both know they do, but I can't tell her because I promised Richie I wouldn't. So, now I'm already on this major guilt trip when she drops the big one and tells me she's dying! That she only has a few months left to live." Blair leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Chief. I had no idea it was that serious. I also know it's going to be hard to keep from telling her about Immortals. You have to ask yourself whether you will do more good than harm by telling her."

"*If* I tell her, she won't feel like she's wasted her career tracking down a myth. But there's no way she can finish her dissertation just on my say-so. And if I give her the proof she needs by telling her about MacLeod or Richie, it would mean that they would become targets. I can't do that, either." Blair sighed in frustration.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to bed," Blair announced. "Maybe I'll think of something tomorrow." He stood up and headed for his room, but stopped at the doorway. "Oh, she wants to meet you tomorrow. Are you going to be free for lunch?"

"I should be. Tomorrow I'll be trying to finish up the paperwork on the Madison case. Just let me know when and where."

"Great. Thanks, man." Blair went into his room and shut the door.

* SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT

The next day, they all met for lunch at a Chinese restaurant near the police station. Blair found himself at the mercy of his friends as they swapped stories about him.

"There he was, in native costume - which isn't much - blowgun in his hand," Denise said, trying not to laugh at the memory. "He raises it to his mouth, takes this *huge* breath... and inhales the dart! I thought he would choke to death on it."

Jim almost fell off his chair he was laughing so hard. "The mighty warrior."

"This really isn't fair," Blair protested. "You guys know too much about me."

"Obviously, I don't know enough," Jim insisted. "Tell me more, Denise."

"Jim, don't you have to get back to work?" Blair glanced pointedly at his watch.

"Sure, Chief." Jim relented. He turned to Denise. "I hope we can get together again while you're still in town. I'd love to hear more about the great - and not so great - adventures of Blair Sandburg."

"I hope so, too," Denise said with a smile.

Jim picked up the check from the table. "This is my treat," he announced before turning to Blair. "Are you coming to the station this afternoon?"

"Sorry, man. I've got a class at 2:00, followed by office hours."

"Okay. I'll see you at home, then." Jim waved a hand as he left.

"Let's take a walk," Blair suggested. "There's a really nice park nearby. And it's a beautiful day."

Denise agreed and they left the restaurant, hand-in-hand. For a while they just walked, occasionally pointing out something to each other. When they came across an isolated bench, Blair pulled her down to sit beside him.

"I need to talk to you, Denise," he started. "About your dissertation."

"What about it? I've given up on it."

"What would you say if I told you I could prove Immortals do exist?"

Denise's eyes lit up. "You mean it? You have proof of Immortals? Blair, you've got to let me see it. I could get my dissertation finished before I die. I could leave something behind to tell the world I existed - a piece of immortality all my own. Something that will prove my life wasn't wasted."

"Denise, you're life hasn't been wasted!" Blair stated emphatically. "But I can't let you write about this. If you published the information, you could ruin peoples' lives. That would be the deal. Absolute, total secrecy. I can't do this without your promise to keep quiet."

"You're a fine one to talk, Blair Sandburg!" Denise said, anger filling her face. "You get angry at me for withholding information concerning Sentinels, but it's okay for you to withhold information about Immortals. I don't see the difference."

"The difference is the Sentinel in those journals is long dead - he can't be hurt if I publish information about him. The Immortals I know are very much alive. If people found out about them, who knows what would happen," Blair explained.

"You mean you actually *know* some Immortals?" Denise looked at him in amazement. "That is *so* incredible. I want to meet them - talk to them. The history they must have seen..."

Blair grinned. "You sound exactly like I did. Actually, the one Immortal that I may be able to convince to come meet you is only 22. But I have met one who's over 400 and my friend claims to know one who's over 5000 years old."

"Wow. Wouldn't it be something to be able to live that long?" A wistful look filled her face. "Sure beats dying at the age of 30. But if this person is only 22, how do you know he's Immortal?"

"I saw him die, Denise. He took six bullets meant for me. He came back later and told me about Immortals. So, will you promise not to tell anyone else? And that means no dissertation, either."

"Okay, I promise, Blair. No dissertation and my mouth is sealed. I'd like to meet your friend. Maybe I can convince him to introduce me to the older ones."

Blair laughed. "Knowing you, I have little doubt of that. I'll give my friend a call and see what he says - okay?" He glanced at his watch. "Right now I need to head to the university. Can I drop you off anywhere, or do you want to go back to the hotel?"

"The mall is on the way. You can drop me off there and I'll get a taxi back to your office later. How does that sound?"

"Great. Let's go."

* SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT *

Denise showed up at Blair's office just as he was finishing up with the last student waiting to see him. He grinned as he took in the new haircut and clothes she was sporting. "Going for the kill?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Denise claimed loftily. "I just decided I needed a little pick-me-up."

"Well, you look wonderful and I'm sure Richie will probably be panting at your heels."

"Richie? Is he the Immortal? Is he coming?"

"Yes, he's coming. In fact, he should be here soon. I managed to get hold of him before my class. He's not too thrilled with the idea, but he's willing to meet you. Of course, a little blackmail went a long way. I threatened to expose him for what he was - not that I ever would, of course."

Denise ran over and kissed him. "Blair, you are the most wonderful man I have ever met."

"It took you long enough to figure that out," Blair said, grinning broadly.

"Okay, I'm a slow learner. So sue me. I should have held on to you when we were married and never let go. I must have been crazy to accept a platonic relationship."

Blair felt his blood pressure skyrocket. "We could make up for lost time..." he said hopefully.

Denise shook her head. "As much as I would like to, Blair, it wouldn't be fair to you. I can't forget that I only have a few months left to live. If we become more involved now, it will be harder on you when I die."

Blair pulled her into a hug. "It's going to be hard, anyway."

"I know and I'm sorry, Blair. But you've got friends like Jim to help you. And, hopefully, knowing that I'm going to die ahead of time, maybe it won't be so hurtful to you when it happens."

Blair shook his head. "Somehow, I doubt that." He glanced at the clock. "Enough morbid thoughts, let's go meet Richie."

* SENT * SENT * SENT

When Blair pulled the Volvo into a parking spot in front of the loft, he noticed a motorcycle coming down the street from the other direction. A moment later the bike was parked next to them and the young man pulled his helmet off, revealing reddish-blond hair and blue eyes. He only looked about nineteen, but Blair knew he was older than that. He quickly got out of the car, motioning for Denise to come meet the man.

"Richie! It's great to see you, man. I'd like you to meet Denise Halston. Denise, this is Richie Ryan."

Richie stared at her intently for a moment, then stuck out his hand and gave her a broad grin. "Pleased to meet you, Denise. If Blair had told me how beautiful you were, I'd have been here a lot sooner."

Denise blushed hotly. "Thanks, Richie."

"Hey, hands off, Ryan," Blair said with a grin, pulling Denise into a quick hug. "I saw her first."

"But it's me that she wanted to meet," Richie replied, undaunted.

"Stop it you two. You're both acting like children. Which - I might point out - you both still are. Maybe I like a more mature man - say someone like Jim." She grinned mischievously.

"Jim?" Blair said in tandem with Richie's "Ellison?"

Denise's reply was lost in a squeal of brakes as a white van careened to a halt next to them. The side door slid open and four masked men jumped out.

Blair tried to push Denise behind him as one of the men jumped him. "Run," he yelled as he struggled with his assailant who was at least four inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Richie fighting off two of the other men. The sound of flesh hitting flesh came from behind him and he knew that Denise hadn't managed to get away. The man he was fighting with spun Blair around so he was up against the van. Now he could see Denise holding her own against the other man, utilizing her martial arts skills. He had just managed to land a good punch to his opponent's stomach when he heard a loud grunt coming from Richie's direction and saw that the Immortal had taken one of his assailants down. For a moment, Blair thought they could win, but his lack of attention to the man he was grappling with was his downfall. A strong blow to his head, and he felt himself falling backwards into darkness.

Dimly, he heard one of the men shout, "There's someone coming. Let's get out of here." He heard more people climbing in the van, but the sound of shots being fired caused him to open his eyes and try to focus. He wished he hadn't as he watched Richie and Denise fall to the ground. The door to the van slammed shut and he faded into unconsciousness.

* SENT * SENT * SENT

Jim had just turned onto the street that ran in front of the loft when he noticed a commotion in front of the building, four blocks away. His Sentinel sight zoomed in and he saw Blair, Denise, and Richie Ryan fighting with four men. He floored the gas pedal, but could only watch helplessly as he saw Blair dumped into the van. As he screeched to a stop, he saw two of the men pick up a third off the street, while the fourth one opened fire with a gun. He pulled his own weapon as he jumped out of the truck, but it was too late, the door closed and the van sped off down the street.

Glancing over to the other two, he saw Ryan and Denise lying on the street. He wanted to follow the van to rescue Blair, but he knew that his primary duty was in helping the two victims. A quick check showed that the Immortal was already dead, but Denise was still breathing, although the gunshot wounds looked serious. With a curse, he ran back to the truck, radioed in for backup and an ambulance, and gave a description of the van. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the seat and hurried back to Denise.

After doing what he could for her, he looked at Ryan. He knew the young man was Immortal and wouldn't stay dead for long. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain how he had come back to life. Seeing Blair's Volvo next to the body gave him an idea. Once again, he returned to the truck and retrieved his keyring. He could hear the distant wail of sirens and knew that he didn't have much time. Running back to the other car, he unlocked the trunk and placed Ryan's body in it. Fortunately, the Immortal hadn't bled much, so there was no trace on the street that there had been two bodies.

A minute later, the street was filled with squad cars, officers and an ambulance. When Simon's car pulled up, he left Denise to the capable hands of the EMTs and went to meet him.

"What happened, Jim?"

"They took Blair, sir," Jim replied. "Four men plus at least one more who had to be driving. All wearing ski masks. The license plate of the van was covered with mud so there's no chance of tracing it."

"Any idea why someone would snatch Sandburg?" Simon pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it before moving over to examine the scene.

"None, sir. Unless it's someone trying to get back at me." Jim rubbed at his forehead as a headache flared up.

"Who's the girl?" Simon pointed with his cigar.

"Denise Halston. She's a friend of Blair's from out of town. I met her earlier today. I think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"All right. I'll have someone check through your old cases - see if anyone has been released lately. I'll also put a trace on your phone line in case you get a call. I'll have Brown go to the hospital and watch over the girl. He can call you with progress reports. In the meantime, you had better stay at the loft and see if you're contacted."

"Very well, sir," Jim agreed. He wanted to be doing something to find Blair, but he didn't have anything to go on. His main hope was that Ryan would remember something that would help him find his Guide.

Once the street had cleared, he went to the Volvo and opened the trunk. Without warning, Ryan launched himself from his prison, grabbing Jim around the legs and spilling him to the ground. They rolled around the street wrestling with each other before the Sentinel got over the shock of the attack. "Ryan, stop it! It's me - Jim Ellison."

Richie stopped his punch in mid-air. "Oh, man, I'm sorry. I didn't know who it was. I thought you were one of the guys who jumped us."

"Let's go inside before someone sees you. It would be really hard to explain those bullet holes in your shirt."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you're right. Lead the way." Once they got on the elevator, Richie turned to Jim. "What happened to Blair and Denise?"

"Denise is on her way to the hospital - it looks pretty bad." Jim noticed a strange expression cross the Immortal's face, but decided to follow up on it later. "They took Blair. My captain is looking into my prior cases to see if somebody might have just been released from prison with a major grudge against me. Unless they were after you - another Immortal maybe?"

"None of the guys who jumped us were Immortals. I would have been able to tell. Of course that doesn't mean they weren't hired men who were working for one. Not all of us follow the rules."

The elevator reached Jim's floor and he led the way down to his apartment. "All we can do is wait right now and hope they contact us. We don't have any leads to go on." Unlocking the door, he stood aside and let Richie enter first. "If you want to clean up, the bathroom's down there." Jim pointed out the direction.

"That would be great. Do you think I can borrow a shirt of Blair's? Mine is beyond help."

"Sure, I'll get one for you." Jim went into Blair's room. He paused inside the door as the familiar smell of his Guide almost overwhelmed him. What had happened to Blair? Was he even still alive? For the first time since he had seen the fight in progress, he let the fear swamp him.

A hand, shaking him, brought him back to the world. "Ellison? Ellison, are you okay?"

Jim looked down into Richie's concerned face. "Sorry, guess I was thinking about something else." He went to the closet and pulled a shirt out. "This should work," he said, handing it to the other man.

Richie took the shirt, throwing a suspicious look at Jim. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Jim just nodded. He wasn't about to tell Ryan about his Sentinel talents. He'd have to be careful to not zone out around him again. "Go take a shower," he ordered.

Jim paced around the room wishing there was something he could do. He hated feeling helpless, especially when Blair was in trouble.

* SENT * SENT *

Blair moaned, waves of pain filling his head as he raised it from his chest. He must have fallen asleep in his office chair again. He tried to lift his hands to cradle his aching head but, for some reason, they wouldn't move. He finally convinced his eyes to open so he could see what was wrong. What he saw brought memories crashing back in on him. He was sitting in a sturdy chair, hands and feet bound to it with rope. Struggling only caused the ropes to burn against his skin. Looking around, he saw that he was in a small room with no windows. A single lightbulb burned above his head.

"Great, just great," he muttered to himself. "I wonder what it is this time - a psychotic killer, or am I being used to stop Jim from doing something? Why is it always me?" Resigned to a possible long wait until his captors saw fit to let him in on their plans, he made himself as comfortable as possible and mentally started planning his next lecture - anything to keep him from thinking about Denise. It wasn't fair that she should be robbed of what little life she had left. With a mental shake, he stopped that train of thought. For all he knew, she was still alive.

The door directly in front of him opened and two men came into the room, both wearing ski masks.

"Who are you?" Blair asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "What do you want with me?"

The taller of the two men slapped Blair. "We're the ones asking questions here, not you. Are you one of *them*?"

"One of whom?" Blair asked, totally confused.

The speaker signaled to his cohort, who pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. He advanced on Blair who started to struggle.

"Hey, man. What's going on?"

Without saying a word, the man reached out and slashed Blair's arm just above the ropes holding him to the chair.

The anthropologist stifled the scream that welled up inside him by clenching his teeth together. He closed his eyes and waited for the next cut. When nothing happened, he opened them again and saw both men staring at the cut.

Finally, the first man spoke. "I guess you're not one of *them* after all. Good thing for you - now we won't have to chop off your head."

With that statement, Blair knew what they were trying to prove. "You thought I was an Immortal, didn't you? Well, you couldn't be further from the truth."

"So, you *do* know what Ryan is. We should kill you just for associating with a freak like him."

"What do you mean - a freak? Richie is a nice guy - he even saved my life. Why do you want to kill him?"

"He's an Immortal! That's reason enough. They're all perverted freaks who need to be exterminated. They want to control the world - it's why they run around chopping each other's heads off. The winner gets to rule the world! We refuse to be dominated by them, so we are going to kill them all off and save the world."

"You shot my friend, Denise! She's not immortal. How can you live with yourself?"

"What we do, we do for the greater good of mankind. We can't let a few innocent people stop us from accomplishing our goal."

The man's passionate statements frightened Blair more than anything had in a long time. These men were fanatics out to commit genocide and they didn't care who they hurt in the process. In their minds, they were saving the world from a great evil. He really doubted that anything could change that.

A third man came into the room and handed several pieces of paper to the first one. As their hands reached out, Blair noticed a similar tattoo on both men's wrists. The first man read through them quickly before turning back to the anthropologist.

"So, you're a consultant for the police department. And you teach anthropology at Rainier University. Quite a combination. Hmmmm." The man continued to scan through the pages. "You live with a cop, too - James Ellison. Does he know what Ryan is?"

Blair refused to answer, staring defiantly back at the man. He wasn't about to help them out.

The man made a motion again, and the one with the knife moved in. This time, he placed the sharp edge on Blair's cheek, pressing in slightly.

"I'll give you one more chance. Does Ellison know what Ryan is?"

"Go to hell," Blair responded. "I'm not going to help you kill my friend." He felt the knife press in deeper for a moment before the first man called him off. He heaved a sigh of relief.

"Don't bother. I'll contact Ellison. Maybe he'll listen to reason and deliver Ryan to us in exchange for his friend here."

"Jim won't do it, man!" Blair said even as he wondered whether it was true or not. Would the Sentinel sacrifice another person's life to save his Guide? He hoped not - he wasn't sure he would ever be able to forgive Jim if he did.

* SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT

Jim stared out the living room window, watching the setting sun and wondering where Blair was. More than two hours had passed and still no word other than from Brown to say Denise was in surgery and would be there a while. In the meantime, Richie seemed determined to drive him crazy with his incessant finger-tapping on the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

"Will you stop that," Jim barked out.

"Chill, man. I'm not the enemy here," Richie retorted. "I'm concerned about Blair, too."

"I'm know. I... I'm sorry. It's just that..."

"You really care about him. I know. I could tell that when we met a few months ago - the way you tried to protect him from me." Richie stood up and went into the kitchen. "Hey, you got anything to eat around here?"

"How can you think about food?" Jim ground out.

"It's easy - I'm hungry. Coming back to life takes a lot of energy - although Mac says I'm a walking garbage disposal when it comes to food. Anyway, it *is* dinnertime - starving isn't going to get Blair back any sooner."

"Fine. Help yourself to whatever you can find. Just don't make a mess, and clean up behind yourself."

"Sounds just like Mac," Richie muttered as he started searching through cupboards and the refrigerator. Soon he had all the makings for a sandwich set out on the table. "Can I make you a sandwich, Jim? You really should eat something. There's turkey here or something that looks kinda like beef."

"That's tongue," Jim replied absently. "It's Blair's favorite food."

"Tongue? Yech! I think I'll stick to the turkey."

Jim smiled briefly. "It's not all that bad. You shouldn't be afraid to try new things."

Richie glared at the Sentinel. "You know if it wasn't for the hair, I'd swear Mac was standing there in your place. You sound a lot alike. Now, do you want a sandwich or not?"

"No, thanks." Jim turned to stare out the living room window, again. He listened to the sounds in the kitchen, wishing they belonged to someone else. "No food in the living room," he said as he heard Richie walking toward the couch.

"He's got to have eyes in the back of his head," Richie muttered, unaware that Jim could hear him. "No food in the living room - must be one of those gazillion house rules Blair was telling me about."

Jim felt a wave a guilt flood through him. His house rules - did Blair really think there were too many of them? He'd obviously been complaining to Richie. He vowed to ease up on them if - no, when - his Guide was back. The phone ringing interrupted his thoughts and he rushed over to pick up the cordless. "Ellison," he barked out.

"Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. We have your friend Sandburg, but we're willing to trade him for Ryan. Bring the freak to Malcolm Park in one hour, handcuffed, and we'll trade. If you're not there, or if we see any other cops, we'll send your friend back in pieces." The phone line went dead.

Jim snarled and hurled the phone against the brick wall, watching as it shattered into pieces. He didn't care.

"What is it? Was that the kidnappers?" Richie asked excitedly. "What did they have to say? Is Blair all right?"

Jim stalked over to the table, trying to control his fury. "Who are they, Ryan? Why do they want you?"

Ryan looked startled. "They wanted me?"

"I'm supposed to turn you over to them in an hour. They called you a freak and wanted me to handcuff you. Explain that!"

"Damn! Why won't they let us alone?" Richie exploded from his chair. "They're probably renegade Watchers - we call them Hunters. They want to kill Immortals just because of what we are - and they know how to do it. I thought the Watchers had taken care of them after the last time, but obviously they haven't."

"Who are Watchers?" Jim needed some answers and he needed them fast.

"They're a secret organization of people who watch Immortals. They're supposed to document our lives and never interfere. Yeah, right. The first time Mac and I ran into Hunters, they had killed a 2000-year-old man who was probably the wisest and most gentle of us all, and a very old friend of Mac's. Darius had been a priest for centuries and almost never went off holy ground. He should have been safe! Everything that he was - all his knowledge and wisdom - were lost forever because another Immortal wasn't around to get his Quickening. It's the worst possible thing they could do to Immortals."

"And you think they will kill you?"

"I *know* they will, but I don't see as we have much choice here. I can't let Blair die in my place. Let's go, Jim." Richie grabbed for his coat.

"Wait a minute. I can't let you do this." Jim swallowed heavily. "Not even to save Blair. I can't trade one life for another. I don't have the right to decide which of you should live or die."

Richie came over and placed a hand on Jim's arm. "You're not the one deciding - I am. I want to live just as much as the next person does, but not if it means that someone else dies in my place. You're a good cop, according to Blair, maybe you can come up with something that will save us both."

Jim stared down into the younger man's blue eyes. He had misjudged the Immortal - letting Richie's outwardly-youthful appearance fool him into thinking him a lightweight. But he should have known better. The Immortal had, more or less, admitted to killing at least one man by chopping his head off. Who knew how many more he might have killed? "All right, Ryan, let's go."

Almost to the door, Richie darted back to the kitchen and grabbed his sandwich. "I'm still hungry," he replied when Jim glared at him. "After all, the condemned man is supposed to have a final meal."

Jim just rolled his eyes before following Richie down the hall.

* SENT * SENT * SENT

Once they were on their way, Jim pulled his cellular phone out of his pocket. He dialed Simon's number and waited for it to connect.

"Banks."

"Captain, it's Jim. I have a lead on Sandburg - Malcolm Park. I'm on my way there now."

"I'll dispatch units to meet you."

"No, wait, sir. They could be watching. Send some unmarked cars over, but don't have them enter the park until you hear from me. I don't want to risk Sandburg's life."

"All right, Jim. I'll organize things and meet you there. Be careful."

"I will, sir." Jim hung up.

Richie had finished his sandwich while Jim was talking. "Can I borrow your phone? I'd like to call Mac and, well... just in case..."

"Sure, Richie. Help yourself." Jim concentrated on the road, but couldn't avoid hearing Richie's side of the conversation. He refused to listen to the other side.

"Hey, Mac, it's Richie. I'm down in Cascade and we have trouble. Tell Joe there's probably a new band of Hunters after us."

A slight pause.

"A group of guys jumped me, Blair and a girlfriend of his. They shot the girl and took Blair and want to exchange him for me."

A longer pause.

"Mac, it will probably be all over by the time you get here. We're meeting at Malcolm Park. I'm with Blair's roommate - Jim Ellison, the cop. We're going to try to come out on top, but just in case... I wanted you to know... it's been... real..."

Another short pause while Jim felt very sorry for the man on the other end of the phone line. It didn't take much imagination to know what MacLeod was going through right now. A part of him wanted to take the phone from Richie and reassure the other Immortal that he would do everything in his power to keep the young man alive - he just didn't know if it would be enough.

"Ummm... Mac, the girl who was shot, she's in the hospital and might not make it. Ummmm..." Richie paused and threw a sideways glance over at Jim. "You might want to send Amanda down - if you know what I mean?"

A very short pause.

"Ummm. Not yet. Listen, Mac, I've got to go. If they do get me, they'll probably come after you next. Watch your head." Richie hung up without saying good-bye. "Thanks," he said, handing the phone back to Jim. "If I don't make it, let Mac know - would you?" He turned and stared out the passenger window.

"Sure, Richie. You can count on it." He took a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and handed them to the Immortal. "Here, put these on. It was one of their demands. Just keep them loose and you should be able to slip out of them. We're going to be at the park in about a minute."

As predicted, the entrance to the park soon appeared. Jim slowed down and turned onto the park road. He cranked up his hearing, sight, and sense of smell, checking out the nearby bushes. Continuing to drive slowly down the road, the Sentinel re-dialed Simon's number. "Captain, there's one in the bushes to the right of the entrance. He probably has a radio or cell phone to call ahead if I was followed. Don't come any further into the park until I call you back."

"How did you know there was someone in the bushes?" Richie asked. "It's dark out here."

"I saw the bushes move in the headlights and there's no breeze tonight," Jim lied. Blair would be proud of his obfuscation. "Therefore, there must be someone in them."

"Well, I sure hope it's not someone's dog. I don't think your captain will be happy about that."

That brought a reluctant laugh from Jim. "No, I don't think he would be." Spotting the white van in a parking lot by the pavilion, Jim drove into the lot and parked on the other side. He opened his senses, trying to find his Guide's presence. Zeroing in on the van with his sight, his hearing, and his sense of smell, he tried to decide how many men were in the vehicle. There! There it was! The sound of his Guide's heartbeat. Faster than normal, but there anyway. He listened to the familiar sound - beat... beat... beat...

"Ellison! What's going on?" Richie shook his arm hard. "Ellison?"

"I'm all right. Blair's in the van. Four men are with him and I can smell gun-cleaning fluid."

"You can *smell* that from here?" Richie looked at Jim as if he had two heads.

The Sentinel almost groaned. For a moment he had forgotten that the presence next to him wasn't Blair. He couldn't think of any way to explain this one. "Listen, Richie, it's a long story. If we get out of this, I'll explain it all. For now, just trust me - okay? Let's concentrate on the matter at hand."

"Okay. Just remember - I'm going to hold you to that promise. So, what do we do?"

"Wing it. For now, stay here." Jim opened his door and stepped out, being careful to keep the door between him and the van. "This is Ellison!" he yelled.

The van door slid open and five men climbed out. Two of them held Blair's arms with one hand and held a gun in the other. The other two also held guns. The Guide didn't appear to be harmed, but his wrists were tied in front of him.

"This is your last chance," Ellison shouted. "Let Sandburg go and surrender."

The leader of the gang laughed. "We hold the cards here, cop. Send Ryan over and then we'll release Sandburg."

"No deal." Right now, Jim wished there were snipers in the surrounding bushes, but he knew there weren't. "Okay, here's how we do it. I'll send Ryan over and, at the same time, you let Sandburg go."

"Don't do it, Jim!" Blair yelled. "They'll kill him!"

"Shut up," the leader hissed before slapping Blair.

Jim clenched his jaws and started to move forward.

"Take it easy, Ellison," Richie said from behind him. "Don't let them rile you."

The Sentinel took a deep breath. "I'm okay. Thanks. Here's what we'll do," he said to the Immortal. "When you meet Blair, take him to the ground and cover his body with yours. Bullets won't kill you permanently and you can protect Blair."

Richie shook his head. "That's a big risk, Jim. One of the bullets might still hit him. If they start shooting, then we'll try that. Why don't we wait until Blair is over here before we act. I'm pretty damn good with martial arts. Plus, I still have my sword. When I get close enough, I slip off the cuffs and attack. You can take them out then, without risking Blair's life. Just, whatever you do, don't let them get me in that van and out of the park."

Jim looked into the serious face in front of him. There was no sign of youth now. This was the look that he had seen on men's faces before a big operation in Special Forces. One that said the man knew he might not come back. "All right, Richie. Good luck." He turned back to the men waiting by the van. "Are you ready?"

The leader nodded his head. "Start Ryan over and we'll let Sandburg go."

"You're on, kid," Jim said to Richie, clasping him briefly on the shoulder.

"I *hate* being called a kid," Richie griped as he walked around the door.

"I'll remember that," Jim said as he drew his weapon from the holster behind his back. He watched the other men carefully, ready to open fire the second they made any threatening move.

The leader shoved Blair towards Jim. With every step, Richie and Blair drew closer to each other. When they met, they both stopped. The Sentinel listened to their conversation.

Blair spoke first, anger filling his face. "I'm sorry, Richie. Jim had no right to do this to you."

"It's all right, Blair. This was my idea - besides, we have a plan. Just keep moving and be prepared to duck for cover when Jim yells. Okay?"

Blair's face cleared and he nodded before glancing over at Jim. "I'll be ready, Jim," he said in a normal voice, knowing the Sentinel would hear him. "I'm sorry. I should have known you had a plan."

"Why are you talking to Ellison? He can't hear you from here," Richie asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"Uhhhh. He can read lips," Blair replied.

"Stop stalling," the leader of the gang shouted. "Or we'll start shooting."

Richie and Blair started moving again. Jim struggled to keep track of everything going on, especially of his Guide. He could sense the tension flowing from him, and hear the elevated heartbeat. When it looked like Blair intended to make a mad dash to the truck, Jim shook his head - Richie wasn't close enough to the other men yet. Just a few more steps, that's all he needed.

"Now!" Jim yelled as he saw one of the kidnappers raise his gun.

Blair took a running leap behind the truck door as shots rang out.

"Get inside the truck," Jim yelled at Blair as he returned fire. One of the men fell, and the detective aimed at the next one. He squeezed the trigger and watched as he went down too. Richie had slipped one wrist out of the handcuffs just before Jim had yelled, and he tackled the other two men.

The Sentinel took a brief moment to make sure Blair had followed the order, and found him lying across the seat, trying to peer over the dashboard. "Keep your head down," Jim said in exasperation, before turning back to the fight. He wanted to help Richie out, but he didn't want to shoot at the three struggling men in case he hit the wrong person. He started running across the parking lot, but the Immortal proved he didn't need any help.

Richie flipped one man over his shoulder, crashing him hard onto the tarmac of the lot. He followed up with two quick jabs to the other man's stomach that sent him sprawling to the ground to join his compatriots.

Jim moved in and, soon, all four men had restraints around their wrists. Blair joined them and Jim untied his hands while Richie was looking at each of the kidnapper's wrists.

"Yep, they're all Watchers," The Immortal said with a grim look.

"Watchers? What are Watchers?" Blair asked.

"We'll explain it later," Jim promised. "Are you okay, Chief?"

"I'm fine, Jim. They didn't hurt me much - just a couple of slaps."

Jim looked his friend over intently, checking to be sure Blair wasn't lying. Once convinced, he looked around the area, but didn't see any place that Richie could hide. "Okay, here's the plan. Richie, you just happened to be in the park and decided to help when you saw the fight. I'll call Simon and have him come in now."

"What about them?" Blair asked. "Won't they spill everything?"

"I don't think they'll get the chance. The Watcher Organization takes care of its mistakes," Richie explained

Before Jim had a chance to place the call, two vans came screeching into the parking lot, followed by Simon's car. The captain came over to Jim and Blair. "Glad to see you're all right, Sandburg. But, why can't you stay out of trouble?"

Blair chuckled. "It must be my karma."

Simon turned to the detective. "I'm sorry, Jim. I tried to keep them out, but they are claiming jurisdiction here. They're some kind of Federal task force."

One of the task force approached the group. He looked them over before pulling Richie to the side. Jim listened to the conversation.

"Are you Ryan?"

Richie nodded.

The man showed Richie his wrist. "We were sent by Joe Dawson. You won't be troubled by these guys anymore. He said you would understand."

Richie nodded again. Together they walked back to where Jim, Simon and Blair stood.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave. We know how to contact you for your statements," the task force member said.

Simon looked ready to explode, but Jim laid a calming hand on his arm. "Let it go, Simon. Sandburg's back - safe and sound. That's the most important thing right now."

Simon sputtered a few times before he turned and marched to his car. With a squeal of tires, he reversed and headed out of the park.

Jim draped an arm around Richie and Blair's shoulders and started walking towards the truck. "Let's go, boys."

"I hate being called *boy* almost as much as I hate being called *kid*," Richie complained. "Blair, how do you put up with this guy, anyway?"

"It's not easy, Richie. It's not easy," Blair teased. "I am *so* glad this is over." He stopped in his tracks. "Wait a minute! I can't believe I forgot - what about Denise?"

"I don't know, Chief. Last I heard she was still in surgery. You can use the cell phone and call the hospital. Brown is supposed to be there with her."

Blair slid into the middle position of the truck and Jim handed him the cell phone, rattling off Brown's cell phone number as he started the truck. The anthropologist dialed the number and bounced impatiently on the seat while he waited for the detective to answer.

"Brown."

Distracted for a moment, Blair debated writing a paper exploring the reason why all the detectives answered their phones with their last names. No hello - just a last name. Jim nudged him with his arm and he remembered what he was doing.

"This is Blair."

"Hey, hairboy! Good to hear from you. You okay?"

"I'm fine. They didn't really hurt me. How's Denise doing?"

Silence. Then, "I'm really sorry, Sandburg, but she didn't make it. The doctors came out about thirty minutes ago and told me."

"Thanks," Blair forced out as tears welled up in his eyes. He closed the cell phone. "She's dead," he whispered. "It's not fair. I hope those bastards get the electric chair."

"I'm sorry, Blair." Jim took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on Blair's arm, squeezing lightly. "We'll nail them for this. I promise."

"Actually, guys, I doubt they will ever go to trial - at least not in a courtroom. They've broken the Watcher oath and that's punishable by death. Those men weren't part of a task force, they were a Watcher cleanup crew. So, ultimately, they will pay for their crimes," Richie explained.

"Damn!" Jim spun the truck around and reached for the phone. "You mean those weren't the Feds?"

"Stop, Jim! There's no sense in going back. They will be long gone by now and even if they aren't, you don't have a chance with them. The Watchers have been around for centuries - if not longer. They've done this countless numbers of times. Those men will have their moment in court - but it will be a Watcher court." Richie heaved a sigh of relief when Jim slowed the truck and turned it back around.

Blair looked at Richie intently, trying to judge the truth behind his statement. "Who are Watchers?" he finally asked again.

"It's an organization filled with people whose sole purpose in life is to follow Immortals around and document their lives, but never interfere. Technically, I'm not supposed to even know they exist, but Mac met his Watcher and he told him the whole story. Since then, we've become good friends."

"That is so bizarre," Blair said. "Why would someone do that for a living?"

"Why would someone run around looking into lost cultures?" Richie asked. "Watchers are trying to preserve history - who and what we are. In a lot of cases, it's a family tradition. Hey, Jim, could we go to the hospital?"

"Sure, Richie," Jim replied. "Why?"

"We have to steal a body."

Brakes squealed as Jim brought the truck to a halt. "We have to do what?"

"You heard me. We have to steal a body - or, more precisely - we have to steal Denise's body."

Blair caught on first. "You mean she's... she's an Immortal?" Hope flared up inside him.

"Yes, she's an Immortal. I sensed that she would be the moment I met her. We have to get her out of the morgue - hopefully, before she comes back to life. It might freak her out otherwise."

"All right!" Blair bounced in his seat. "Let's go, Jim!"

Jim rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment. When had his life gotten so crazy? What did he do in his early years that justified this kind of retribution? He straightened back up. "All right. Richie, we'll drop you off at our place - you can't be seen at the hospital - someone might recognize you as the corpse that disappeared a few months ago. Sandburg and I will handle the... body snatching."

"Fine by me. You may want to take some clothes along in case she comes back to life before you get her out of there," Richie suggested.

* SENT * SENT *

Thirty minutes later, Jim checked out the hallway leading to the morgue. "It's clear, Chief. Let's go." He started down the hallway at a normal pace, but he didn't hear his Guide following him. He turned back to see what the problem was.

"Jim, don't you think we should have some disguises or something? I could get us some lab coats or maybe some surgical gowns. Yeah, that would work. Face masks and everything. I'll be right back."

Jim reached out and snagged his arm. "Forget it, Chief. First off, too many people know us in the hospital. We'd be more conspicuous wearing lab coats. And doctors don't run around the hospital wearing their face masks. If someone sees us, we're just here to see your friend's body. Got it?"

Blair nodded, a disappointed look on his face.

"C'mon, Chief." Jim resumed his pace down the corridor. Stopping at the morgue door, he listened carefully. "Clear." He pushed open the door, went inside, then came back and dragged a pale-faced Blair into the room. "Relax, Chief. Take a deep breath. They aren't doing an autopsy right now. Trust me. You wait here and I'll go get Denise's body."

Blair nodded again, too busy concentrating on taking deep breaths.

Jim went into the other room and found the drawer marked D. Halston. He opened it and pulled the drawer table out. Realizing that this wasn't the time to make mistakes, he flipped the sheet back to verify the identity of the body. For a moment, he questioned Richie's information. She didn't look like she was coming back to life. He heard the door opening and spun around.

"Jim, what's taking so long," Blair hissed through the doorway, keeping his eyes averted.

"In a minute," Jim declared. "Let me find a clean sheet." He quickly searched the rest of the room and found the drawer where they were kept. Moving back to Denise, he whipped off the bloodstained sheet and replaced it with the new one, wrapping it tightly around the body. He then picked her up and strode to the door. "Let's go, Chief."

It didn't take long to go out the back entrance of the hospital and Jim heaved a sigh of relief when they reached his truck without meeting anyone. He put Denise's body in the middle of the seat and waited for Blair to get in on the other side and hold her before he climbed behind the wheel.

"If Richie's wrong about this, I'm going to personally chop his head off," Jim growled as he started the engine.

Once back at the loft, Jim carefully placed Denise on the couch. "How long does it take for you to come back to life?" he asked Richie.

"It depends. This is her first death. If she had died instantly, she'd be back by now - at least based on how long it took me. But I didn't have surgery. Her body has a lot to heal. In the meantime, we wait. By the way, I used your phone to call Mac while you were out. If you let me know how much the charges are, I'll pay you for them."

"Don't worry about it, Richie." Jim replied. His stomach let out a low growl and he realized just how long it had been since he last ate. "Is anyone else hungry?" he asked as he went back to the door. "I'll go pick up some Chinese and bring it back here."

"Sounds great, Jim," Blair agreed. After the Sentinel had left, he turned to Richie. "So, Denise has to learn how to use a sword and stuff like that? Will you train her?"

"Yes, she has to be trained, but I won't be the one to do it. I'm barely out of training myself. Besides, females fight differently then men do - and that's not meant as a sexist remark. The best teacher for her would be another female. A friend of Mac's is already on her way. She should be here within the hour. Amanda is over 1000 years old - so you know she has a few tricks up her sleeve."

Blair sighed. He hoped Denise was ready for this. He could just picture this Amanda. She probably looked like an Amazon - all muscled up. "I'm glad Denise will have a good teacher."

Richie nodded. "I'm sure Mac will help out some, too. And he's the best. All right, Blair, I want you to tell me everything about Ellison. He said he would once this was over, but I'd rather hear it from you. He said he could smell gun-cleaning fluid all the way across the parking lot! And I don't buy the 'he can read lips' comment either."

Blair looked around nervously. He glanced at his watch trying to decide how soon Jim would be back. "Ummm... I think you should wait for Jim to get back."

"C'mon, Blair. I trusted you enough to tell you about Immortals. I'm not going to run around telling everyone I meet. I know what it's like to keep secrets."

Blair decided Richie had a point. The Immortal had trusted him enough to come meet Denise, the least he could do was tell him the truth. "Jim is what I call a Sentinel," he explained. "He has hyperactive senses - sight, smell, hearing, touch and taste."

"Wait a minute - two syllable words here. What do you mean hyperactive - they go crazy? Isn't there drugs he can take for that?"

"No. I mean his senses are enhanced. He can sense things better than we can. He could easily read a book from across the room if he wanted to."

"Whoa! That would be awesome," Richie said, an amazed look on his face.

"To some extent it would be, but he has a hard time controlling them. A regular light bulb could seem brighter than the sun when his sight goes haywire. And imagine hearing every little noise - down to a person's heartbeat - in a crowded room. Then there's the zone-out factor. If he concentrates on any one sense for too long, he zones out. He almost got hit by a garbage truck the first time it happened - never saw or heard it coming."

"That must be what happened to him!" Richie exclaimed. "I found him staring off into nothing twice. I had to shake him real hard to get his attention."

Blair nodded. "Yes, that's a zone-out. You were lucky you managed to bring him back. And, just like Immortals, if his secret got out, there would be people after him all the time because of what he can do. You've got to promise not to tell anyone about him - and that includes Denise. She doesn't know, either."

"Deal. We also can't tell Denise about Watchers. I'll let Amanda decide what to tell her about them."

"Agreed," Blair said just as Jim came back.

"Any sign of life?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head. "Not yet. Are you sure, Richie?"

Richie smiled. "Trust me."

Jim groaned. "Those are the two most frightening words in the English language," he said. "Let's eat."

While they were getting plates out of the cupboard, Blair turned to Jim. "I told Richie about you being a Sentinel," he whispered. "He said that you promised to tell him. I hope I did the right thing."

"He's right," Jim replied. "I did promise, Chief. I slipped up and he saw too much, but I'm not too worried about it. I'm sure we can trust him."

"I think so, too," Blair replied, feeling better about telling Richie.

Once they were seated at the table, Blair turned to Richie. "Those men who attacked us, they were convinced that Immortals were trying to take over - that the winner could control the world. Why would they think that?"

Richie's face turned pink. "Well, there is a reason for that, but I'll explain it later. I'm going to have to spell it out for Denise. That way I won't have to go through it twice. Okay?"

A sudden, loud gasp came from the couch and the three of them abandoned their meal. Richie sat down on the edge of the couch and Blair knelt down beside it, while Jim remained standing.

"It's all right," Richie said, taking one of Denise's hands in his. "You're going to be okay."

"What?" Denise looked around wildly. "What happened? Where am I?"

"We're in Jim and Blair's apartment," Richie continued. "What do you remember?"

"I... I remember being attacked and... and then I was shot! Why didn't you take me to the hospital?"

"Denise, look at yourself. Do you see a gunshot wound?"

She sat up and looked down at herself. "Noooo. I don't understand. And where are my clothes at? Who undressed me? What's going on?" She looked over at the anthropologist. "Blair, what's happening? Did I dream it?"

"No, you didn't dream it, Denise," Blair assured her. "Do you remember wanting to meet an Immortal?" When she nodded, he continued. "Turns out you are one yourself."

Denise stared at him suspiciously. "Blair, have you been drinking or smoking something?"

The three men laughed.

"No, Denise, he's telling you the truth," Richie said. "You are immortal - just like me. Jim, can you get me a sharp knife from the kitchen? And some paper towels, too." When the Sentinel returned with the items, the Immortal drew the blade across his palm. "Now watch." Little bolts of lightning glistened on his skin for a few seconds before he wiped his palm off. "See, no cut. Now, it's your turn, but I'll just make a small cut. Okay?"

Denise nodded before reluctantly extending her hand. Richie took it and made a small cut - no more than an inch long. Lightning bolts appeared and were gone. Denise looked at the area of her hand closely. "It's gone," she exclaimed.

"That's right. Now that you are a full-blown Immortal, you can heal just about anything. The only thing that can kill you is if your head is chopped off."

"And my brain tumor? What about that?"

Richie shrugged. "I'm no expert, but it should have been taken care of when you became immortal. You could live for thousands of years - if no one takes your head. There are a lot of things you need to know - do you want to go over them now?"

"Can you wait a little while? I'm still struggling with this."

"Why don't you go take a shower," Jim suggested. "Blair brought a sack in from his car that has some of your clothes in it."

"Okay." Denise gathered the sheet up around her and Blair showed her where the bathroom was.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, Blair had a cup of tea ready for her. "Here, Denise." Richie and Jim were already drinking beer, but the anthropologist decided to join her in drinking tea. He sat down on the couch next to her, and placed one arm around her shoulders.

"Okay, Denise," Richie said. "I'm going to hit the highlights here. Your teacher, Amanda, will go into more detail. From this point on, you will never grow older and you will heal quickly from most wounds. You can die temporarily, but, like I said before, the only way that you can die permanently is if someone takes your head." With a swift movement, Richie was on his feet and had his sword drawn. "Other Immortals will come for you with a sword and you'll have to learn to protect yourself."

"Why? Why would they want my head?" Denise asked, puzzled.

Richie put his sword away and sat back down. "We call it The Game. According to information that has been passed down from one Immortal to another, we are in the time of the Gathering. When one Immortal takes another Immortal's head, it releases a Quickening. It's supposed to be all the power and knowledge and strength of the dead Immortal. The more Quickenings you hold, the more powerful you are. According to legend, the last remaining Immortal will have enough power and strength to rule the world for an eternity."

"Oh, man. No wonder those guys want you dead," Blair said.

"I'm not sure I like that idea too much, either," Jim said with a frown.

"Listen, guys. I don't know whether it's true or not. I don't know how long the Gathering will last. None of us do. Some say it will be over soon, others say it will go on for thousands of years. Plus, a lot of us don't *want* to rule the world. We just don't want someone evil to do it. For all I know, it was someone's sick idea of a joke to keep us all fighting each other. The only thing I can swear to is, if you chop off an Immortal's head, they don't come back."

"And you get the Quickening?" Blair asked.

"That's right."

"Why do you call it a Game?" Denise asked.

"I don't know - maybe because it has rules and a prize. We've discussed the prize, now let's talk about rules. Our fight is one-on-one with swords or something similar - and you can't interfere in someone else's fight. Guns are a no-no. We aren't supposed to let mortals know of our existence, so if you're fighting someone and a mortal comes along, you have to stop."

"Then how come Jim and Blair know about you?" Denise asked. "Didn't you break the rules? And what kind of punishment goes with breaking the rules?"

Richie grinned. "Yeah, I broke the rules, but I trust these guys. They aren't going to run around telling the world that we exist. Fortunately, that's a minor rule, so all I got was a lecture. But if you break the big rules - like no guns - eventually other Immortals will come after you to try to stop you. The one rule you *never* want to break is no fighting on holy ground - no matter whose religion. You'll be able to tell when you're on holy ground because there's this certain feeling that seems to surround you when you're there."

"What would happen if you did kill on holy ground?" Blair asked.

"I asked someone that myself. The only time that we think it's ever happened can't be proved. It was in Pompeii - I don't remember the year."

"Vesuvius? That was in 79 AD," Blair muttered. "Wow!"

"Like I said, it can't be proven and most of us don't want to find out what happens, either. I think that about covers it, Denise. Any questions?"

"If Immortals are always after each other, then why don't you just take my head?"

"There are some of us who would, Denise. A lot of us only kill to stay alive or to prevent someone evil from hurting others. I don't want to win the Prize and taking your head wouldn't give me much power - after all, you haven't taken any other heads. I've met a lot of Immortals over the few years I've known about them, and have ended up with some very good friends."

"And if I don't want to learn how to use a sword - what then?"

"You have three choices, Denise. One, you learn how to defend yourself and kill if necessary. Two, you move to holy ground and never leave there. Or, three, you have a very short life. It's your choice."

"Some choice," she muttered.

"Look at it this way, Denise," Blair suggested. "You died today. Every day you live is a gift. Make the most of it. I don't like the idea of killing, either, but give it a shot. Learn what you can from your teacher and hope that you'll never have to do it."

Suddenly, Denise clutched at her head, moaning.

"What's wrong, Denise?" Blair asked, panic filling his voice. "Richie?"

Richie stood up and drew his sword. "Another Immortal's coming. It's probably Amanda. Denise, that's how you will know who's immortal and who's not. It's an early warning system to let us know when another is around. It will get better in a moment." He stalked to the door and threw it open, relaxing when he saw who was there. "Hey, Amanda. Come on in."

Blair gaped at the vision who came through the door. This was Amanda? Wow! Tall, slender build with legs that went on forever, well displayed under a tight mini-skirt. He looked over at his roommate and saw that Jim was appreciating the view as well.

"Aren't you going to introduce me, Richie?" the female Immortal said with a predatory look on her face.

"Amanda, this is Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg and Denise Halston. Everyone, this is Amanda." Richie pointed out each person as he said their name.

Jim beat Sandburg to the punch, moving to take Amanda's hand in his own. "How do you do," he said, putting on his best smile.

Amanda smiled back. "Richie, why didn't you tell me you had such... handsome and charming friends?"

"I thought you and Mac were an item," Richie replied with a wry grin.

"Oh, pooh. Don't be a silly boy. Duncan doesn't own me," Amanda purred, her hand still resting in Jim's.

"Amanda, he's a cop," Richie added. "I don't think he would appreciate some of your exploits."

"I'm a reformed person," Amanda declared. "Doesn't a person get a second chance?" she asked Jim, ignoring Richie's snort of laughter at her first statement.

"Oh, I would think so. I can't imagine you doing anything wrong," Jim declared.

Richie rolled his eyes, but only Blair and Denise must have seen him. They had to stifle giggles at the disgusted look on the young Immortal's face.

"Listen, guys, this has been fun, but I have to get home. Amanda, what do you want me to tell Mac?" Richie asked.

"You're such a spoilsport, Richie," Amanda declared. "You've been hanging around Duncan too long. I guess I'd better get back to Seacouver, too. Denise, I'll let you say good-bye to your friends in private. I'll wait for you down by the car."

"I'll go out with you," Jim said. "I can't let a lovely lady like you go out alone in the dark."

Richie snorted again. "Jim, she carries a *big* sword, and she knows how to use it. You're the one who needs protection here."

"Shut up, Richie," Amanda said. "Gallantry is never out of style. You could take lessons." She swept out the door hanging onto Jim's arm.

Richie threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "I give up. It's been nice seeing you, Blair. Denise, I'm sure we'll meet again."

"Good-bye, Richie," Denise and Blair chorused.

When they were finally alone, Blair turned to Denise. "I guess this is it."

Denise nodded. "But we can still stay in touch, can't we?"

"Of course we can. And Seacouver isn't all that far away. We can get together occasionally - when your training and my schedule permits."

"I can't believe how much my life has changed," Denise said with a shake of her head. "Just this morning I thought I only had a few months left. Now I could have centuries. It's mind boggling."

"Just take care of yourself," Blair scolded. "And do everything your teacher says."

"Yes, sir," Denise replied with a smile.

Blair leaned forward and kissed her gently. "I guess you had better go." Hand-in-hand, he escorted her to Amanda's waiting car. He helped Denise into the car, while Jim did the honors with Amanda.

Together, Sentinel and Guide watched the car disappear down the road. "You know, Blair," Jim said. "I think it would be nice to take a few days off soon and go up to Seacouver. Just to see how Denise is doing, of course."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Blair replied. "Maybe we could meet some of these Watchers. You know, I've been thinking, Jim. I wonder if these Watchers might have had Sentinel abilities. I mean, they've kept the fact that they've been watching Immortals a secret for centuries. Maybe it was because they didn't need to get close to them. Yeah, I definitely think this is worth checking out. I could set up some experiments..."

The end.


End file.
